


Dead Men Live the Better Life

by navaan



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alcoholic Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Western, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotionally Repressed, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, M/M, Pining, Protective Steve Rogers, Romance, Secret Identity, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Feels, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9534725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: The first time he saw Iron Man, he was freezing and close enough to dying that all of it seemed like a dream.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the “AU: Western” square on my[cap_ironman Bingo card that can be found ](http://cap-ironman.livejournal.com/)[here](http://navaan.livejournal.com/297771.html).
> 
> Tony has a suicidal moment in there, connected to his alcoholism. So be warned.

The first time he saw Iron Man, he was freezing and close enough to dying that all of it seemed like a dream. He lay in an icy cold ravine and his limbs were cold enough to freeze over and when he opened his tired eyes and felt like he’d slept too long, long enough to not be sure that sleep wasn’t really death in disguise. And there he was a dark, hulking shape in the night bent over him like he was about to be crushed.

Broken, beat and cold as he was, he must have made a sound.

“He’s alive,” the monstrous shape said and the voice sounded hollow and booming; not human at all. 

A woman wearing men’s clothing - black pants and a yellow shirt and mask - appeared at the iron monster’s side. “You’re the captain they were talking about. The one who rallied the troops when all was lost. Rogers.”

“Not a captain any longer,” he muttered and tried to sit up. He wished for his gun. “You one of those secret society bushwhackers?” His hands were tingling and it was hard to move his fingers, ball his fists. “Are they sending machines now to get to me?”

“Must be scared of you, cowboy,” the woman said. Then she looked to the north, up the river. “And I’m pretty sure they’ll think you died in that explosion.”

Steve noticed a third shadow behind the bulking heap of metal and even with his head swimming and his limbs not ready for action, he carefully shifted his arm to search for a big enough stone that could serve as a weapon. He hissed in pain, when the cold of the water hit skin again.

“I heard about you,” the hollow voice of the hulking shape said. “You’re a war hero. One of the real ones.”

“There’s no such thing,” he spat, still not sure what to make of that contraption or machine. He’d seen automatons in the city, in the camps even when the doctor had put him back together to go into the field a better and stronger man, but this was something different altogether.

“He must have done something right,” the shadow said from behind it and finally revealed himself to be a broad shouldered, strangely clad man. He looked like he’d ridden with local tribes, or jumped right out of old European history books with the pigtails adorning his blonde long hair. “Our friends of the unholy order are after him.”

“He means, he likes you,” the metal giant explained and for the first time, as he was finally helped to his feet, did he feel like there was actually a man inside that… thing.

“Who are you?”

The young woman smiled. “People call me the Wasp. This is Iron Man. And the man with the hammer is Doc Blake. People call him Thor, because he hits like lightning and thunder.”

“The outlaws around here call us the Avengers.”

It sounded preposterous. But when Iron Man held out his hand to help him walk, he let himself be pulled to his feet and went along. Every bone in his body ached and he felt like death warmed over.

The woman took things in hand immediately. “We can’t take him with us to the meet-up with our two missing friends. He needs a bed and food.”

The hulking armor spoke up again: “I can set him up at Stark’s place for the time being.”

* * *

Mr. Anthony Edward Stark, formerly of New York, had a vast family estate at his disposal and apparently nobody to share it with. In the two days he’d imposed on the man’s hospitality, Steve had learned that he had built the armor for Iron Man and was an Industrialist from the east who had settled here now to be “where it was at”. Apparently he had some good contracts with the railroad and was building machines for local businesses, pushing for innovation and new technologies.

Steve had only met him that morning and only in passing and found out another detail. “Life in New York not busy enough for you?” Steve had asked and tried to rotate his injured shoulder, tried to get the stiff muscles to relax again.

“I have the business over there well in hand,” the man had answered, seeming like a gentleman in a shiny suit that looked like new and with an infectious smile curving full lips. Steve, who didn’t always take to the kind of rich man Stark apparently was had blinked at the amiable expression. “I like building new things and out here I can see how they help build a new world.”

“Dangerous place,” Steve said and tried not to think too hard about why his benefactor’s smile made warmth pool in his stomach. He’d been on the road too long, without friendly company. And Sara Rogers son wasn’t one to look for the passing comfort bed-houses had to offer. 

“I’m aware,” Stark had said simply, and to his surprise Steve had seen a glint of metal at the man’s side. A colt, he thought.

“You’re _the_ Tony Stark!” He had held one of his famed weapons himself not too long ago.

“The one and hopefully only.” Stark had smiled. “Don’t leave the house. Your Avengers friends will be back in soon. They usually are.” He winked, a little too flirty an expression on a business man’s face. “Jarvis will get you something to eat. Have a nice day, Captain Rogers.” Stark put on his hat and tipped it before stepping out on the street, before Steve even had the time to tell him that Steve Rogers had quit the army and was no captain any longer – and that none of it mattered anymore.

“Better stay safe yourself,” he muttered as he watched through one of the windows beside the door as the man strode away with purpose.

* * *

The secret order of Hydra made it easy for Steve to settle on a new course of action. Jan - the Wasp - had helped him decide. Now Steve rode out, wearing a blue shirt over blue jeans and a mask to hide his face. After all Steve Rogers had died in an explosion and under the new guise he was free to investigate and do what he thought had to be done.

He rode alone most of the time, teaming up with his new friends when things got out of hand. He stayed with Doc Blake at an Indian camp once in awhile and more often than not returned to Stark who had offered him a permanent room inside his too big house.

Iron Man, he had learned, was a real man under the armor. He did not always use the full armor, but rode with a lighter version of the Iron Man mask when he had to move quickly. But even then, you never knew what hid under his garments from light armor to dangerous gadgets. “Most of them are Stark’s design.”

“He funds you?”

“You could say I work for him. I go where he can’t go to figure out what dangerous people plan on doing with his life’s work.”

The town Stark had picked as his home when he wasn’t in New York attracted outlaws by the droves and Janet had already divulged the information that the Roxxon Oil Company and a local army supplier named Hammer were waging a private war against Stark’s business ventures. Even Steve had already found out that Stark’s enemies were willing to hire drifters and known criminals to do their dirty work and they didn’t particularly care how many people got hurt in the process. 

“What’s so important about this place? So important that Stark would stay?”

Iron Man shrugged and Steve smiled at the human gesture. He liked it, when he could see more of Iron Man’s body language. “Stark was born in New York, but his mother used to take him here once a year. Family legacy, I suppose.”

“Happier times,” Steve mused. “I understand that.” Recently more than ever he felt like his gaze went back to the past, like he was a man out of time.

* * *

He rode back into town in the dead of night and wasn’t especially surprised when nobody was home. Stark was a busy man and the other Avengers had their own lives.

The house felt lonely without anyone there. Not like the home he’d come to expect.

Dusty and dirty as he was, he could do nothing more than to clean himself up and wonder. When had this place started to become a home?

* * *

He followed Stark with his eyes, as the man moved among the guests of the town party. He’d recognized Janet the moment she had walked through the door, but had tried not to give away the surprise. He’d never seen the famous vigilante known as the Wasp in a proper ballroom garment, and right here and now she was outshining all the other ladies on the dance floor. But it was Stark in his bright white suit who kept his attention.

The man had a drink in a hand and was chatting with Hammer of all people, like the fact that the man had tried to kill him twice during the last year was nothing.

He didn’t seem nervous about it all.

Steve didn’t like it one bit though. 

If Iron Man were here he would agree.

Stark should not be taking chances.

There was no real law in this town but for the justice the Avengers could bring and as far as Steve could see the only Avengers here where Janet and himself. The new sheriff hadn’t even turned up, and that was never a good sign. The crook had probably been paid to stay away. 

The woman now stepping up to Stark wore an expensive dress and held herself with the air of someone who knew they’d get what they wanted. “Tony darling,” she said and hooked her arm with Stark’s unbidden, “I hope you’ll finally dance with me.” Steve had enough. While Tony hadn't tensed up or given the woman or Hammer anything more than an amiable smile, Steve wanted to be where he could be of help if necessary.

“Of course, of course,” Tony said absentmindedly and threw a half-apologetic, half-taunting smile at Hammer. “Ms. Bain, I’m sure you already met Mr. Hammer. I hear he was quite the dancer in his younger years.”

“Gosh, Tony, you've become a boring country boy. It's time you come back to the big city.”

“Are we done yet?” Steve asked as he stepped up to Tony's side, aware that all eyes had turned to him, but only Tony's mattered. 

“Are you getting impatient?”

He shrugged.

“Who are you then?” The lady at Tony's side asked with a sudden gleam of interest.

“That's Mr. Rogers,” Tony said and had that crooked grin Steve liked so much plastered on his face. “We are baching it at the moment. He lives with me.”

“Oh ho, another attractive bachelor. Perhaps your Mr. Rogers wants to dance?” The lady smiled at him, but it was clear that she was trying to get a rise out of Tony.

“Do you?” Tony asked and he was still amused. Clearly he could not picture Steve out on the dance floor.

Neither could Steve.

All that belonged to another life that had ended on the bottom of a ravine. Still he heard himself say: “Those weren't the steps I wanted to teach you, but I'm game, Mr. Stark.”

The lady and Mr. Hammer stared and Tony laughed. 

It was always so much better when the laughter actually reached his eyes.

He shrugged, like he had no care in the world. “Take me home then,” he said then, with a dramatic sigh, but followed Steve out, back to the dusty streets and into the now cool night air. Tony hadn't stopped his soft laughing yet, and Steve told himself the heat in his cheeks was from the crowd of people stuffed into one big room.

* * *

Tony, Steve noticed, drank.

He hadn't noticed at first, because the signs he knew for it were different. His father had been loud and dangerous when he'd been in the sun, tipping the bottle back like it contained water. Tony on the other hand grew quiet.

“When did you get back in, Cap?” he asked, “Haven't seen you in weeks.”

“Heard it was rough up here.”

“Not rougher than usual. Nothing we can't fix.”

“We?”

“We,” Tony said. “Me and Iron Man. The way it's always been.”

It wasn't Iron Man but Steve who helped Tony up the stairs and to his room. It wasn't Iron Man who sat by his bed for a while to make sure nothing haunted his dreams.

* * *

“How long have you known Tony?” he asked when they met at the Wilson farm, where “The Captain” had come to stay more often than he stayed at town and with the other Avengers. It had just become easier to stay away, recently. He did not want to come in between something he wasn't even ready to name.

“Me?” Iron Man shrugged and it looked funny, because he was wearing something that was much bulkier again today. “For a long time. Since the beginning, really.”

Steve had the urge to ask more, but he remembered Tony's sad look and his words: “Me and Iron Man. The way it's always been.” So he let it rest.

These men were his friends.

That he felt like he'd lost something he'd never had in the first place was his own business.

* * *

By the time he heard that something had happened in New York, that part of Tony's company and fortune was gone, stolen from under his nose, it was much too late. Hammer had moved in and by the time Steve arrived in front of the house that had temporarily been his home it was in flames. Hank was there with Janet, waiting in the backyard with their masks hiding their faces, ready to run into the flames. “Iron Man and Tony?” Steve asked.

Janet – he'd never seen her cry before – sobbed. “I think he's in there. Tony is in there.”

Steve did not hesitate even for a second. With a blanket drenched in water he ran into the house and found Tony exactly where he thought he would be, sitting at a table, unconscious, drink still in hand. There was blood on his knuckles and his shoulder.

Apparently he'd been grazed by a shot.

“Tony?”

He shook his other shoulder and startled the man into a groan. “We have to get out. The house is...”

“Steve?” Tony muttered. Over the roaring of the fire his words were barely audible. “You can't be here. Go! This is... my... this is where I...”

“ _You_ come with me!” Steve said and pulled him hard to his feet.

“I don't...”

Tony fell forward against his side and Steve swept him up, for the first time since meeting the man not afraid to give away his own strength. He carried Tony out into the night to where Jan and Hank were waiting, making ready to take them away from the house that had once been their shelter before men could come looking for any trace of them.

* * *

The first three nights at the camp of Blake's tribe, Tony slept and screamed and groaned and his fever never broke. Steve sat beside him every minute, helped to force water and concoctions down his throat. They'd found metal under his shirt and slowly Steve had realized that he'd been wrong. For Tony there was no solace in Iron Man. Iron Man was Tony's armor, just like the Captain had become his own.

“He must have been in constant pain. These scars aren't new,” John said and touched the place where Tony's chest was covered in bruises, where his flesh touched metal.”

“Must have happened when he was attacked in New York. That was a while before he moved out here,” Janet said. She too was pondering what she saw there and when she and Steve shared a short moment she kissed him on the cheek and whispered: “Iron Man needs the Avengers more now than ever, Cap. Don't leave us again.”

He sat there for another day, before Tony came to, slowly, tears in his eyes.

There were so many things he wanted to say, that he had no real words for. What came out instead was: “Did you really want to burn to death?”

Tony, in pain and barely able to speak, huffed and said: “It would have been as good a day as any to make the pain stop.”

“It never stops. It never goes away.” He touched a hand to Tony chest, lightly traced the metal. “But when you're dead it gets easier.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Captain Rogers died that day in the snow and you found another Captain in his place. Tony Stark died in a fire back in town. But Iron Man lives.”

Tony stared at him watched his fingers trace from metal to flesh and held his breath. When he reached for Steve's hand, Steve laced their fingers together and held on. “It's not just you and Iron Man anymore. We're here. I'm here.”

* * *

The day they rode away together for the first time, faces hidden behind their masks, reminded Steve of their beginning. The air was cold and Tony swung himself into the saddle slowly, not to jolt his injuries.

The first time he'd seen Iron Man he'd thought his dying mind was dreaming up a monster. Now he looked at Iron Man and knew about the vulnerable brave man beneath who was trying to set some things right that had been done in his name and with the things he'd built, who was battling his own demons every day. 

There was no going back to their old lives now for either of them.

But when Tony nodded at him and Steve realized that he could see Tony in every shrug of the shoulders and the way he held himself, he knew that both of them were a little less lonely in death than they had been in that other life.

They were even now. They had saved each other.


End file.
